


No Quarter

by epkitty



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: M/M, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-28
Updated: 2011-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-16 00:33:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epkitty/pseuds/epkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aya has always had trouble making choices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Quarter

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Tarot card 06, The Lovers

Quarters were tight above the flower shop. And one bathroom wasn't enough for Yohji by himself, let alone Yohji and three other young men.

Omi shuffled in and out at his own pace, half-asleep and slightly ruffled. He used his obliviousness to his advantage, feigning temporary deafness whenever anyone wanted to kick him out.

Ken took ridiculously long showers and was notorious for using up all the hot water, which resulted in more than a few dastardly pranks perpetrated against him, but he didn't waste time doing anything that could resemble primping, which meant that he was out as soon as the water was off.

Aya spent as little time as possible in the bathroom, but he took at least two showers a day, continually eating up the favored morning and nighttime slots. Because no one interrupted Aya when he was doing anything.

Yohji, however, could spend up to three hours in there doing only the gods-knew-what, but continually pestered by others in the household who made up ever more innovative names to call Yohji, who in turn ignored them or returned the insults, depending on his mood or level of intoxication.

The rest of the house was fairly evenly divided. Omi and Ken shared the kitchen amiably, while Yohji had adopted the couch and Aya - if he deemed himself acceptable company - could regularly be found in the armchair in the corner.

They each had their own rooms to retreat to, and each pulled his own weight in the flower shop. Mostly.

Their other duties were something else entirely, and they tended to draw a veil over that part of their lives between missions. For days on end they could pretend to be typical young men sharing close quarters above their shared place of work.

And even if it was pretend, they each of them were actors in their own right and portrayed their parts perfectly.

= = = = =

"Keeeeeeennnnnnn," Omi whined, "the dishes are really backing up."

"Then wash 'em, kiddo."

"Oi! I did it two days ago; it's your turn!"

"Actually," Ken argued from the living room, bouncing his soccer ball from one knee to the other, "I think it's Yohji's turn."

In the corner, Aya grunted a disbelieving snort that perfectly conveyed his sentiments.

Yohji - sprawled on the couch where he'd collapsed the night before - mumbled something vaguely Japanese.

"It looks like the Hangover Wonder won't be joining us," Ken observed, whipping the soccer ball into Yohji's unprotected stomach.

"WHOOOUUUFF!!!" Yohji groaned and clutched his stomach in pain as the soccer ball rolled off into a corner.

"Ken," Aya said in a warning voice, peering over the top of his newspaper.

"I'll leave him alone, dammit," Ken mock-whispered across the room. "But I'm not doin' the dishes."

= = = = =

Assassins find it prudent to keep their bedroom doors closed and locked while sleeping, keeping as many barriers between themselves and their enemies as possible.

But when awake while in their individual territories, various rules apply.

If Yohji's door was open, one was welcome to visit him in his room. If his door was closed, there was generally no good reason to go bothering him.

Omi's door was always open, and he was prone to starting conversations with anyone who might pass by. As long as he hadn't disappeared into his computer.

Ken generally kept his door closed, but this seemed to be a matter of habit, and a polite knock would invariably gain entrance.

Aya never left his door open. And it was a rare occasion that anyone saw fit to bother him.

= = = = =

"Aya?"

Aya chose to ignore Yogji's initial overture.

"Hey, Aya, I know you're in there. Can we talk?"

Aya stood, opened the door, sat back on his bed, and stuck his nose back in his book.

Yohji took a step forward, leaning one shoulder on the doorframe and crossing one leg before the other to plant the toe of his boot on the floor. "Doin' anything tonight?"

Aya glanced at him.

Yohji smiled and lifted his tinted sunglasses from his eyes to sit on his forehead. "I'm going out. Thought you'd want to join me."

At this, Aya set his book aside and met Yohji's inviting stare. "What on this foul earth makes you think that?"

Yohji shrugged, let his eyes wander around the sparsely appointed room. "Well, I never asked before. Thought I might."

"Hn." Aya picked up his book again. "I'll thank you to close the door behind you."

Yohji winked, smiled, and shut the door.

= = = = =

There were regular fights over the TV.

They usually let Omi win.

= = = = =

"…"

Yohji sensed someone behind him. He turned the key in the lock and spun around to find Aya staring at him.

"Afternoon, Aya," Yohji said, untying his apron and walking around the counter to hang it on a nail there with the others. "All closed up." Yohji washed his hands at the sink, dried them, and tossed the towel into a bin. "To what do I owe this exceptional visit?"

"You busy?"

Yohji held out his arms to indicate the empty shop. "This is it! Done for the day."

"I mean tonight. You busy?"

"No plans," Yohji said, feigning indifference as he plucked his coat from the coat tree in the back room and slung it on in a graceful sweep of fabric. "Why? You looking for company?"

"Thought I'd go for a walk," Aya said.

Yohji stood there, looking, waiting. He wasn't going to help him along any more.

"Wanna come?" Aya asked.

Yohji gave a brilliant grin. "Delighted."

= = = = =

When missions went south, it was bad all around. Even if no one was injured, there was guilt aplenty to share, and regrets sifted through the mind, sticking to the brain like burrs to passing sheep.

When there were injuries, it was a thousand times worse.

= = = = =

"Ken, would you STOP already; any more of your mothering and I'll suffocate instead of bleed out."

"But--"

"Ken." Aya appeared in the doorway. "Leave him alone. Any more bandages and he'll be a mummy. Go clean yourself off."

Ken glanced in Yohji's mirror, finally seeing the blood that spattered his face in a beautiful splash of dark red. "Oh crap." He shot out of the door, calling over his shoulder that Yohji shouldn't be left alone.

Yohji and Aya watched one another with soft eyes as they listened to the sounds of the running shower and Ken's muffled curses.

"You should check on Omi," Yohji said.

Aya looked him up and down. "I will."

Yohji lay still, observing the ceiling for countless minutes until a blur of red flashed in the corner of his eye and he felt the mattress depress beside him.

"Aya."

"I'm here."

"Thank you."

= = = = =

They were lucky. Camaraderie came naturally to the four of them. Most strong personalities in such close quarters couldn't say the same.

= = = = =

Yohji sat on Aya's bed, bouncing lightly like a child to test the spring of it. "Read any good books lately?"

"Some. Stop that."

Yohji stilled and slid back to rest his back against the wall, his naked feet dangling off the edge of the bed. He peeked over Aya's shoulder. "Novel?"

"Non-fiction."

"History?"

"Yes."

"Well, isn't that a grand conversation we just had. You're improving."

"Yohji?" Aya sighed. "Can't you… I dunno, shut up for half a minute."

"Sure. I know some real good ways to keep quiet." Yohji grinned and slid his hand onto Aya's thigh.

Aya jumped about a mile, his book went flying, and he landed on his feet turned toward Yohji, in a fully defensive position.

Yohji didn't move. "Wasn't exactly a full-fledged attack there, Aya."

"What are you doing?"

Yohji ran a nervous hand through his hair and eased up off the bed with the slow and careful movements of a man approaching a predator. "Aya," he said. "It's time to make a choice."

Aya closed his eyes, pained. When he opened them, his violet eyes saw only the katana.

Yohji looked at the weapon in its careful place on the low table beside the bed.

"Hey, it doesn't have to be one or the other. It can be both, you know."

Aya stepped forward calmly and unsheathed his katana to examine the gleaming blade. "No," he said. "It can't." He returned the weapon to its rightful place and pointedly opened the door.

Yohji paused on the threshold, looking back with a telling gaze. "If you say so."

Aya closed the door. He stood alone in his room. And he turned the anger outward, onto the criminals who awaited their execution, hoping for another mission. Soon.

= = = = =

The End


End file.
